


Your Little Hand In Mine

by AxlotlAtHeart



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Gifts, Marriage, POV Sansa Stark, Post-Canon Fix-It, Theon Greyjoy Lives, Theon and Sansa are married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22996717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxlotlAtHeart/pseuds/AxlotlAtHeart
Summary: Sansa married Theon months ago, and now he thinks it's time to give her a special gift. Written for the "fashion" prompt of Theonsa challenge 2020.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53
Collections: Theonsa Challenge 2020





	Your Little Hand In Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my first (but hopefully not last) submission for Theonsa challenge 2020, I already had it in mind but then when the challenge came up I thought it would be cool to post it there. It only KIND OF goes with the prompt, but none of the others worked at all so whatever, it's a bit of a stretch. Hopefully I'll do more later. Cheers!

A cold night wind shuddered the windows , the sound making Sansa jump and almost prick herself with her needle as she pushed it through the fabric. It had been picking up all day, bringing with it gusts of snow from all directions. The night would be a cold one.

She pulled the edges of her cloak tighter around her, glad for the warm hearth she sat beside. In the fire’s glow she examined the new project in her hands; a series of stitches along a seam where one of her dresses had torn. There wasn’t much left to be done. Once it was finished she thought she might search for her husband, who in an uncharacteristic move, was _still_ missing.

Sansa wasn’t worried. Or so she told herself time and time again. He wouldn’t have gone far, and he’d seemed perfectly fine in the morning…she had no reason to be concerned. Not yet, anyway.

Still, it would be best to go and hunt for him before the snow and high winds got any worse.

As she poked the needle through for a final stitch she heard the chamber door open. And to her relief, there was Theon himself, face reddened from the wind and a dusting of snow on his shoulders.

“You look frozen,” said Sansa. “Where have you been?”

He shrugged, starting to undo his cloak. Even after being married for nearly three months, Sansa noticed it was still hard for him to look at her sometimes. The thought plucked at something in her heart.

 _It will get easier,_ she told herself. _The worst is already over, after all._

She rose and went to help him with the straps of his cloak. He let his hands fall in defeat and rubbed them firmly together, massaging warmth back into the fingers. He was shivering.

“Thank you,” he muttered, as she took the cloak from him and draped it over a chair near the fire. He would need to get used to her doing simple things for him soon – that was the point of them being married, wasn’t it? So they could be there for each other whenever they needed, even in little ways?

Even after Sansa had taken his cloak, he still hovered near the doorway uncertainly. As if he needed permission to come in.

“Come and sit by the fire. I don’t want you catching cold.” She tried to keep any concern out of her voice.

He gave a jerk of his head and shuffled over, slumping into the proffered chair, closing his eyes briefly. Sansa pulled her own chair closer to him and brushed some stray snowflakes from his hair. Now that he was closer she could see how tired he looked. He hadn’t been around for much of the afternoon while she sat at her desk leafing through ledgers and paperwork, and mending her dress, and he looked like he had been outside through all of it.

“It’s awfully cold out there,” she said. “You disappeared just after noon, I hope you weren’t out there the whole time.”

He didn’t meet her eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what you’ve been doing all this time? It must have been very important.”

A flush crept into his cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. He cleared his throat. “I had something made,” he said.

“And what’s that?”

“It’s…well…it’s for you.”

Sansa sat back. That was not the answer she was expecting. “You made me something?”

“Well, the smith did it; I’m no metalworker. I only gave him the design. And, well, I wanted to make sure he made it right.”

He hesitated, then drew out a small object from an inside pocket, keeping whatever it was tight in his hand.

“I know in some places in the south… it’s traditional for a man to give his wife a ring from his family upon marrying her. It isn’t the custom here – or in the Iron Islands – and I know it’s been a while since we wed, but…well…I don’t know, I just thought…”

He unwrapped the tiny package and handed it to her. Sansa held the ring up to the light, hand trembling slightly. It was a solid iron band, rather roughly worked but engraved with spiraled etchings that might have been waves, or tree roots – or both at once. Running through the band was a thin strip of something pearly, like the inside of a shell.

“This is beautiful,” she said, more touched than she could say. “Theon, it’s…thank you.”

He shrugged, though she saw a hint of the pink return to his cheeks.

“I never made anything for you.”

“There’s no need to,” Theon said quickly. “I didn’t mean – I just wanted to do something nice. You didn’t have to do anything back.” He looked embarrassed. “I don’t even know if it fits properly.”

Sansa slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a little large, but not so much that it might fall off. She ran her fingers over the delicate ridges once again, watching how the firelight played over the shifts in colour. It really was a lovely thing.

“Grey and white.” She looked up to see Theon watching her shyly. “I thought – for the Stark colours.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I mean it.”

“You don’t have to wear it if it’s too impractical – “

She rose and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, startling him a little. Despite being married there were not so many things like that between them. Not yet, anyway.

“I’ll wear it, practical or no. It was a very sweet thing to do.”

Theon still looked a little embarrassed, but a smile flickered on his face. “I’m glad it makes you happy.”

Sansa reached for his hand. Gloved still, but his and his alone. The fingers entwined with hers. Though the winter’s chill still clung to the glove, the hand inside was full of warmth. 

“Does this mean it’s real?” She said quietly. “Me being your wife? I know it’s been a while, but there are times when I forget…when what we are to each other doesn’t seem real. Does it…is it like that for you too, ever?”

He was silent for a moment. Then –

“Yes. Sometimes. Sometimes I – I think it’s all only a dream. That I’ll wake up and still be…somewhere else.”

Sansa knew what he meant by that, exactly what he meant, without him needing to elaborate. But the thought that he still forgot sometimes, that he still found himself trapped in the darkest parts of his mind…it broke her heart.

“I know,” she said. “There are times when I forget who I’m married to.”

She had tried to say it lightly, but the words got stuck in her throat. Her eyes fell back to the new ring on her finger. “That’s what this is for though, isn’t it? To remind me.”

Theon nodded solemnly. “To remind us both.”

Sansa ran her finger over the beaten iron again, the snow-white wave, the reminder of who she was with. Of who was there for her now. And of who she had become.

Someone who had survived. A Stark and a Greyjoy both.

Before they were married, Theon had told her what Jon said to him, the blessing he had given with his forgiveness. Had they had time, Sansa would have given him the same words long ago.

_Stark and Greyjoy._

She could be the same. The ring would make that harder to forget. She need only look at it to remember for certain the darkness that had gone. And all the light that would come.


End file.
